"I want to visit the mortal realm. I want to live among them—for a time."
The words hung in the air like heresy.
Silence fell. Only the quiet hissing of serpents filled the space.
Yes, my siblings hissed.
I wasn't Medusa's only child.
To my right stood my elder sister, Nyssa. Her serpentine hair writhed with life, streaked in venomous emeralds. Golden eyes glinted with predatory focus, and beneath flawless skin, serpent-scale patterns shimmered faintly. Draped in a black-and-gold chiton, she moved with lethal grace. Our mother's fiercest daughter, her fangs bore the purest form of our cursed blood—Death Venom.
To my left stood my younger brother, Krios—the middle child of Medusa's lineage. His rose-pink hair shifted like a storm, wild and restless. His amber eyes held a subtler terror—those who met his gaze too long found their bodies frozen, paralyzed by a power still awakening.
We were different. But we were bound by blood. Medusa's children. Which meant we belonged nowhere.
Nyssa blinked like I had declared war on common sense. "I'm sorry, did you just hit your head or something?"
Krios tilted his head, deadpan. "Wait, is this a joke? Are we joking? Because I can laugh. Ha. Ha."
I sighed. "Not a joke. I'm serious."
Nyssa groaned and dragged a clawed hand down her face. "Of course, you are. Because why wouldn't you be? Gods forbid we have a normal day where no one decides to commit social suicide."
Krios pointed at me. "This is worse than when you tried to wrestle that Cyclops."
"Hey, I almost won."
"You got launched into the ocean," Nyssa said flatly. "We found you face-down on a crab."
"It was a very supportive crab," I muttered.
Nyssa threw her hands up. "Okay. Let's pretend for a second you're not a complete idiot. What exactly are you planning to do in the mortal world? Stroll into a village like, 'Hello! I'm Raezel, youngest heir of Medusa! Kindly withhold your pitchforks'?"
Krios nodded solemnly. "You do have a very pitchfork-able face."
I glared. "What does that even mean?"
Nyssa turned to our mother. "Mother. Please talk some sense into him before he gets himself crucified by farmers."
Medusa had remained silent. Just—staring at me. Unblinking.
And then I realized: She wasn't mad. She was thinking.
Which was somehow much worse.
She exhaled, slow and heavy, like weighing whether to toss me into Tartarus for my own safety. Then she said:
"If that is your wish..." Her voice rolled like thunder beneath still skies. "Then it shall be done."
Nyssa froze mid-eye-roll. "Wait, what?"
Krios frowned. "That was... easier than expected."
Even I blinked. I expected fire. Fury. A cosmic-level grounding. But this?
Medusa turned, her golden eyes locking with mine. No rage. No disappointment. Only concern.
Not for the world. For me.
"Come, Raezel," she said. "If you are to live among mortals, we will do this my way."
***
It was supposed to be a normal day for King Eldors of Velmor. He woke up, stretched, admired himself in a bronze mirror, and sat on his golden throne, ready to be worshiped by peasants.
Then something... unusual happened.
A guard—a hardened warrior—burst into the hall. Screaming. Not shouting. Not yelling. Screaming.
"W-WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"
The King blinked. "What kind of problem?"
The guard opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I—It's—She's—"
Another scream. This time from outside.
And then the great doors swung open.
Not by force. Not by magic. They simply moved aside. As if they knew better.
A noble gasped and fainted. A servant girl dropped to her knees and prayed to every god.
The King? He stopped breathing.
Because walking into his throne room—uninvited, unannounced, and utterly unbothered—was Medusa.
The nightmare of Olympus. The monster gods feared. The living curse who turned legends into warnings.
Behind her: Me, Raezel, her current problem.
Nyssa, looking unimpressed.
Krios, smirking like he'd paid for front-row seats.
The King managed a word. "...Why?"
Not even a full question. Just why. As if he couldn't choose between
Why is she here?
Is she real?
or, Why me?
He slowly looked up. "O mighty Zeus, whatever I did, I'm sorry—just smite me quickly and spare me this nightmare!"
The heavens answered. A voice, deep as thunder, echoed across reality:
"Even I, who sit upon Olympus, do not know the purpose of Medusa's arrival."
The King's soul left his body.
Silence. Dense. Paralyzing.
Medusa took one step forward. Just one.
She didn't glare. She didn't raise her voice.
"Take care of him."
The King blinked. Looked at me. Then at her. Then back.
"...I'm sorry. What?"
Her eyes never wavered. Golden. Absolute.
The King shrank into his throne. "O-Of course, great one. I will care for him as if he were... a prince of my kingdom."
I know he wanted to say—my son.
Medusa studied him. Long enough for him to start sweating. Then she turned to me.
Her hand brushed my cheek. Cold. Gentle.
"You don't yet understand what it means to carry my blood," she whispered. "But one day... you will."
Then she turned away.
The serpents in her hair hissed, shifting softly. And from that nest, one moved with purpose.
It slithered down. Stretched. Shimmered. And transformed.
A tall man in flowing obsidian robes, with viper-slit eyes and the aura of a drawn blade.
Nihaga.
I didn't flinch. I knew him.
"My Queen," he said, bowing. "I will not leave his side."
The King, who had just resumed breathing, froze again.
Medusa's eyes narrowed. "You doubt my decision?"
"I do not trust mortals," Nihaga said, eyeing the court like vermin.
The King wisely said nothing.
"I will remain with Raezel," Nihaga continued. "To protect him. To guide him. To ensure he is not... contaminated."
"C-Contaminated?" the King echoed.
Then it began.
Hissing. Movement. Chaos.
Every serpent in the kingdom answered the call. From cracks in walls. From forests. From under the palace floor.
Small. Massive. Divine. They slithered forth.
And bowed.
To My Mother. To us.
Then, in a unified voice, they declared:
"We will protect him."
A beat.
Then:
"No, I will."
"You? You're a garden snake, shut up."
"I was blessed by Queen Medusa herself!"
"You hiss in your sleep."
"I DO NOT—"
"Can confirm," said another. "Sounds like boiling tea."
"Enough!" a larger serpent boomed. "We must choose the most worthy."
"Obviously me," Nihaga snapped.
"Because you're her favorite?"
"I'm not her favorite. I'm just better."
"You've never even fought a chimera."
"Because I kill threats before they become chimeras, you worm."
"Oh, now I'm a worm?"
"That's offensive to worms."
The King stared, haunted, as his palace descended into reptilian anarchy.
I sighed.
"Nyssa," I muttered.
She smirked. "At least another hour."
Krios groaned. "I hate family gatherings."
And at the center of it all, My mother—watching.
Smiling.
Because it didn't matter who won the argument.
If I so much as scratched myself...
They would burn this kingdom to the ground.
And she wouldn't even have to lift a finger.